


Long Time No See

by lottieland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Australia, EWE, F/M, Hogwarts, Memorial Ball, OOC, Reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lottieland/pseuds/lottieland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has been, for lack of a better word, hiding in Australia for the last 18 years after her messy break up with one Mr. Ronald Weasley.<br/>However, she is now returning for the 2ndWW memorial, with a husband and kids in tow.<br/>Surprises await, relationships are tested, and how will everyone react when they find out who her husband is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New fic idea that I've been toying with for a while, hope you like it!  
> Lottie xx

Ever since she had left Britain around 18 years ago, Hermione Granger had been reluctant to return.

Not because of the near-constant rain that was set over the collection of isles. Neither because she was on every ‘wanted’ poster out there, unlike some people she could mention.

It was simply because she felt she had nothing to return to.

As she sat outside her home a few miles just outside of Melbourne, Australia, she reflected on the direction her life had taken all those years ago.

Needless to say, leaving England was quite possibly one of the biggest and best decisions she had ever made.

It was an extremely random place for THE Hermione Granger to end up, but here she was. Of course Hermione Granger doesn’t do anything without thinking it through thoroughly first, considering of all the positives and negatives, making her beloved lists, cross referencing with the opinions of others, etcetera, etcetera.

However, she had chosen this particular town on this particular peninsula in this particular state of Australia for one particular reason.

Isolation.

She, around 18 years ago, was in dire need of some privacy. Having just having her heart broken by one Mr Ronald Weasley, and the Wizarding Press hassling her at every turn, going to the other side of the world seemed the most logical thing to do. Radical, yes, but also logical.

And all Hermione Granger ever did was the logical thing.

Ronald had made that perfectly clear when they fought for that last time.

Now, she smiled at the memory of their final row. Not because the memory was a happy one, but because of what he had accused her of being, and what it insinuated. Yes, she was logical, and she WAS stuck-up with a hint of OCD, and was a LOT of a perfectionist. However, she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was happy being the way she was, and once she realised that if the supposed ‘love of her life’ couldn’t love her for who she was, including and despite all her faults, he was simply not worth her time.

Harry, the poor man, was stuck in the middle. His two best friends arguing over everything, from why the knives were set _inside_ the forks at the dinner table, to why their relationship was falling apart. Both angry with each other, always at each other’s throats. He quite obviously couldn’t pick a side, as they were both equally his best friends, yet having one talk at length about the many faults of the other so many times obviously takes a toll.

He was actually the one who bought it to her attention that she and her supposed love weren’t happy. And that maybe they were only staying together because it was the only ‘love’ that they had ever known, and were both too scared to make the first move on to the break up.

Harry had called it ‘relationship chicken’. Hermione couldn’t think of a better description as to what she and Ronald were doing at the time.

Of course, after having this enlightening talk with Mr. Potter, she took action, and became a cockerel, if you will.

In other words, she was the one to make the first move. They both agreed they weren’t content, and after their split, even though it was fairly mutual, it was far from clean. Arguments still raged, now more brutal than ever, with hexes being thrown into the mix, again, and with Harry and the Weasleys still in the middle. This lead to some admittedly amusing situations, as with high emotions comes poor aim. It was a huge mess, to say the least. So Hermione could only see one option.

To remove herself from the equation entirely.

She was told that was nonsense, she didn’t have to leave. But she could see it would be better for everybody in the long run if she gave everything time to settle. Then, maybe she and Ronald could come to a point where they could be in the same room as each other and not start a screaming match for once.

But even with the logical reasoning backing her, she was also, at the time, scared. Ashamed almost. For the first time in her life, she was running from her problems. And this terrified her, as she prided herself on being a courageous person, yet she couldn’t face ONE ex-boyfriend. However, she knew she wasn’t really running, and she wasn’t just doing this for herself, but for the sanities of everyone else caught in the middle of something none of them deserved to be. And she knew Ronald couldn’t be the one to leave, he was their son. So, she took the initiative.

Harry was perhaps the most reluctant to let her go, especially since he had known her equally as long as Ron, give or take a few days. But, with a promise of contact via owl at least once a week, and floo calls from time to time, she packed her bags.

Now was just a question of where to go.

She couldn’t go to the Weasleys, for obvious reasons, and also staying with Harry defeated the object of leaving. Like when a toddler proclaims that they are to leave home, never to return, but they are camped out behind the sofa with a packet of biscuits and a torch. No, she needed somewhere much further afield, a complete change in scenery. Preferably not even in England… And then the idea struck.

How did she not think of this sooner?

After obliviating her parents to keep them safe during the Second Wizarding War, she had been meaning to go searching for them.

And how much further away could you get?

Yet, there were a few reasons why she had not done as such beforehand. For one, after restoring their memories, she did not know how they would react to having had their free will taken away _by their own daughter_. Also, with the clear up after the war, then immediately jumping into a committed relationship and building a life with Ron, she hadn’t had the opportunity to go on a search.

As well as those reasons, there was a more practical reason that she had not searched for them earlier. The process would be a long one. There would be the monitoring of them to see whether the spell had held itself properly. And then the spell reversal in itself was a lengthy procedure. Preparations had to be made, as there was a physical part to the spell as well.

Also was the fact that their memories may not return at all.

It was a risk she knew she had to take at the time, and given the chance to go back and do things differently, she would still not change her decision.

However, she had no idea how the reversal process would go. The risks were so many. They could be hospitalised, their minds reset, only remembering a few things from their life before… The possibilities for disaster were endless, with only one perfect and good outcome, which was that their memories would return in full.

She was terrified of the fact that she may lose her parents, this time for good.

But to Australia she still went, knowing that now was better than later. Even if it was just to check on them, it would be a worthwhile trip.

However, the short time away from England, and her entire life, became a much more permanent arrangement. Hermione never would have expected the sequence of events that followed her arrival down under, making her not want to leave this glorious utopia.

She fell in love.

Obviously there was a lot more to the situation than that, but that one fact alone clenched her decision to remain where she was.

It was, and still remains to this day, the most impulsive thing that she has ever done.

Not that going to Australia at a moment’s notice wasn’t impulsive, but it was still a well thought out route for her to travel down, with plenty of reason behind it. But the choice to stay with _Him_ , had no reason, order, or rational thought to it at all.

All it made her realise was that the love she thought she had for Ron was absolutely _nothing_ in comparison. And by that logic, would she ever find this feeling again? She highly doubted it.

So, she stayed.

Needless to say, she never once regretted her decision.


	2. Moving Onwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second instalment.  
> This is going to be a longer fic, I'm in for the long haul.  
> Enjoy!  
> Lottie xx
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, damn it!

“Now, have you remembered to pack Rabbit?” The woman asked, crouched down so that she was eye to eye with the two year old before her. “You know you can’t sleep without him, and we can’t come all the way back just for him.”

Staring sulkily back at his mother, Xander shrugged his shoulders, and stuck his thumb back in his mouth.

“Come on, where is he then? Oh! I know! Why don’t we go on a treasure hunt to find him!” fake enthusiasm filled her tone as she sprung up to her feet and held out her hand for him to take. Big brown eyes, her eyes, stared back up at her. Once more, the toddler shrugged.

The thumb came out, “Don’t wanna go on a tweasure ‘unt.” The thumb went back in.

“Why not sweetheart? Don’t you want to find Rabbit? Has he said something mean to you? Do you want me to tell him off by squeezing his little tail for you?”

He giggled, but it was short lived, like he was repressing his mirth. The stroppy expression returned once more on his little face, “No, Wabbit ‘asn’t done ANYthing.”

“Then why are we Mr. Grumpy Chops this morning? Huh?” The child wouldn’t look up from the spot her was staring at on the floor. Sinking back down onto her knees, mindful of the significant bump protruding from her midsection, Hermione put one delicate finger underneath his chin and coaxed his face up so that his eyes met her identical ones. “Is it because Caelum ate the last of the waffles this morning and you wanted some?”

“No.”

“Is it because we can’t find Rabbit?”

A head shake. “No, he’s ‘iding, we’s pwaying a game.”

“We are,” she corrected. Then frowned, “Is it because we’re moving?”

His eyes looked straight back down at the floor again, despite his mother’s hold on his face. “No.”

“Oh honey. I can see why you’re upset. I’m upset too that we're leaving. But it’s so your brothers and your sister can go to the _best_ school in the _world_ , as will you when you get older. Don’t you want to go to Hogwarts?”

Immediately a smile graced the toddler’s face, a complete contrast as to what sat there only a few seconds prior. “Mummy? You tell me ‘bout you an’ Daddy’s time at ‘ogwarts?”

Hermione smiled at her young son, whose interest in magic was insatiable. It was at times like this when she really saw her love for knowledge coming through in her son. Out of all of her children, Xander, on balance, was most like her. At least physically. With his curly untameable chestnut curls and deep brown eyes, he definitely resembled her more in the obvious features.

“Of course darling, now if we could only find Rabbit first…” Glancing around, she realised that there were very few places her son’s toy could possibly be ‘hiding’. As everything was in boxes, ready for removal men to ship them to the airport, it could only be under the one sofa left in the living room, or behind any of the other boxes. Unless… Hermione groaned.

“Xander, did Rabbit hide inside any of the boxes by any chance?” Her little mischief maker put his thumb back in his mouth and a smile appeared around said thumb. She tried not to panic outwardly, because she had sent a load of boxes off with the removal men earlier that day. If he had put the toy in any of _those_ boxes, he wouldn’t be seeing Rabbit for a few days.

This was quickly turning into a disaster.

She was pregnant, for the fifth, and hopefully last, time. That meant that using an international portkey or floo was not an option, as it was not recommended for witches that are expecting, to use them after the first trimester. And she was comfortably into month four. Therefore, moving had to be done the muggle way, as her husband refused to let her travel by plane by herself, especially for that immense amount of time. And they couldn’t exactly send the kids ahead by themselves, with all of their belongings.

So, the muggle way it was.

Trying to not worry too much, as it was not good for the new baby and would upset her son, she calmly asked where he had put Rabbit.

“You ‘ave to find Wabbit, Mummy! It’s a game!”

Closing her eyes momentarily, wondering why this had to happen today of all days, Hermione set out to find the evasive stuffed toy. It was of great importance to find Rabbit, as Xander would not sleep without him. He hardly even left the house without him, so getting him to travel for 24 hours, plus customs, the little journeys in between flights, and the multiple hour waits ahead of them without his version of a ‘comfort blanket’ was out of the question. Travelling with a non-stop screaming toddler? No thank you.

So Hermione started tearing open already packed up boxes to look for this blasted toy. And if Rabbit was in a box which had already been sent in the first batch… Merlin, help us all. She was going to have to get reinforcements.

As soon as the rest of the family got home from getting their takeaway lunch, she’d employ them on her team of Rabbit searchers, current employment list: Hermione Granger. Well, not Granger anymore, but…

Ouch!

She’d sliced herself opening one of the boxes. This was the last thing she needed! Blood welled up on the small cut, so she put her finger into her mouth and continued searching through the box, which now seemed bottomless. Surely they can’t have this much crap…

“Mummy! You say a BAD word!”

Hermione caught herself, realising she had been mumbling out loud.

“I’m sorry sweetheart! I’ll put a dollar in the jar.” Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a coin. “Hey, why don’t I give you a pound? Seeing as we’re going to England, and you can spend it when we get there?” Smiling, the two year old gladly took the small golden coin and started examining it, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

“They ‘ave diffwent money in Englan’?”

“Yes, they do.” Finding her purse on the kitchen counter, she rifled through it and retrieved a few more coins and notes. “Here we go… This here,” she held up a small copper coin, “Is a penny. A 1p coin. There are one hundred of these in every one pound, like the one you have. And this,” She then held up a slightly bigger copper coin, “Is a 2p coin. That is two of the 1ps.” Emptying her purse of the copper pennies, leaving the 10ps and upwards behind, she scooped the pennies towards her son. “Now, can you make one pound out of all of these pennies?”

He nodded enthusiastically, almost as if his head was half screwed on, like a certain ghost she used to know… “Yes Mummy! I can do it!” And with that, Xander was focusing hard on counting the money.

Now, that was the kid distracted from the missing Mr. Rabbit, but now was the matter of actually finding it. Him. Her. God damn, it was a toy, it doesn’t have a gender!

Ripping open another perfectly packed box, she resumed her hunt. But not before catching her thumb this time. If only she could find the bloody box opener. But, ironically, she’d packed it! She was nothing if not meticulous.

Sucking her thumb, she tried opening the same box a little further with her other hand, but sliced that one too.

“Fucking hell!”

“MUMMY!” An outraged cry came from the table.

“Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“No no, Mummy. Mummy say a BAD word. Mummy says TWO bad words! Mummy say ‘fu…”

“Okay okay! Please do not repeat me Xander Cygnus.”

Hermione darted over to the table and plucked a further two pounds from her purse and placed them on the counter top in front of her son. Two coins for two taboo words.

“My my, you’re going to be rich by the time Daddy gets home! How much is that now?” She asked, helping her son sneakily expand his counting skills.

“It… one… two… twee!”

“Well done darling! It’s usually Daddy who gives you the most ‘bad word money’, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But ‘e tol’ me to not tell Mummy the realwy bad words ‘e say.” Chuckling, and silently vowing to educate her husband in the fact that bribery does not work on a two year old, she stroked her boy’s sweet face and cupped his cheek.

“I hope you don’t repeat the words Daddy says.”

“No, I don’. I don’ say wha’ Kay-Kay say too!”

“And what does Caelum say… Actually don’t repeat it.” She rushed the last part of the sentence. Sometimes she forgot how old he really was when he spoke. He was extremely advanced for his two and a half years.

The innocent little devil, for she knew what he was really capable of, grinned, showing the nearly full set of teeth he was in possession of, then stuck his thumb back into his mouth. He then continued counting his ‘Englan’ money’ with as much concentration as before.

Noticing a stray drop of blood on her hand resting on the counter top, Hermione sucked it into her mouth to lick it away as she watched her son, was in rapt fascination.

She then heard the key turn in the lock.

_Finally, reinforcements have arrived…_

 

* * *

 

 

“Shotgun!”

“Hey no, wait! I called shotgun for _eternity_ last time!”

“Yeah, but that was on the other car!”

“It applies to both cars, and any cars we get in the future.”

“No it doesn’t! You’re just making that up!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are. I’ve never heard that rule before.”

“Because it’s a new rule!”

“And where did you hear of this almighty rule, may I ask?”

“From… a friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Just a friend.”

“You’re still making it up.”

“I’m not!”

“Boys!” Both heads snapped to look at their father. “Stop arguing. Does it really matter who sits in the front seat for one ten minute trip?”

“YES!”

Silver eyes darted from one boy to the other. They narrowed when they noticed the glare passed between the brothers.

“I have an idea,” Draco Malfoy started, with a smile, “How about neither of you sit in the front seat?”

“What?!”

“Yes, that’s right. Neither of you get to sit there.” Turning to his third child who was stood quietly next to him, he bent his head slightly and held out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion. Adopting an extremely exaggerated posh tone, he bowed comically. “My lovely Lady Lyra, would you care to join me in the front of the car? These ragamuffins can’t seem to make a fair decision.”

Giggling, his little girl took his hand. “Of course Daddy, I’ve always wanted to ride in the front seat!”

Draco grinned, a rarity. Usually it was an amused smirk or a bar of laughter, but he was in a particularly good mood that day, so a grin it was.

The car ride back to their home was uneventful, if you don’t count the constant light-hearted bickering between the boys in the back of the car.

Draco sighed. He loved his family, and wouldn’t change anything about them for the world, but sometimes they were so taxing.

He had initially taken the three kids and himself out of the house for a few reasons. One, because his wife was starting to have weird cravings due to her pregnancy and wanted some exotic food that they didn’t have available in the house. Secondly, because everyone needed lunch and they had next to nothing in the kitchen cupboards as they were moving the following day.

Thirdly, was because his wife was extremely stressed as it was, with the move and all. Never mind having the pressure of three extra children plus a toddler asking where every particular object was. So, he had removed himself and the kids, minus one two year old, from the equation, as stress was not beneficial for the baby.

Pulling up in front of the soon to be empty house, Draco parked the car and turned around in his seat to address the twin boys in the backseat.

“Now, your mother is extremely stressed. No, in fact, that is an understatement. She’s pushing herself way too far with this move. I took you out of the house for a while to let her calm down for a while, and when we go back in, I don’t want to hear any ‘Mum, which box is my computer in?’ Or anything like that. I also don’t want to hear of any messing about with empty boxes, or you opening any already packed boxes for _any_ reason. Because otherwise her blood pressure may rise too high with the stress, and it’s not good for the baby. Alright?”

He looked from one twin to the other. Them staring at the floor of the car, the identical expressions on their non-identical faces. But you could very easily see they were wary of harming their mother.

After a few seconds of silence, Draco fished for a response.

“Scorpius?” He asked, glancing at his platinum haired son, definitely the most like him out of all his children. “Caelum?” This time looking his more golden haired boy. Both glanced up, and his wife’s beautiful brown eyes stared back at him in double. “Well?”

Mumbles came from the back seat, and he took that to be a promise of not messing around.

Swivelling back around, he regarded his daughter sat in the seat adjacent to him. She hadn’t done anything as such, however he knew very well the way she worked, getting the blame placed on her elder brothers. Her angelic features, so much like her mother’s, could not deceive him.

“Lyra?”

She sighed and nodded her head.

Good enough.

Draco turned the car off, the universal sign for everyone to get out. All three children scrambled out, but he followed a more leisurely pace. They were in no rush, and the kids couldn’t open the door without him, as he had the keys.

Chuckling to himself as he thought of his children’s eagerness to get away from Dad’s lecture, he followed them to the door and tossed his set of keys to Caelum, who opened the front door of the house and, as if by magic, all three kids disappeared into the house and away up the stairs, leaving the door ajar.

He stepped through the open doorway, only to come across a very amusing scene. His wife was sucking her thumb, unwittingly doing an uncanny impression of her youngest son, who was sat across from her at the counter top wearing the same expression, and doing the same pose. To add to the funniness of the situation, they were surrounded by obviously ripped open boxes, which made the whole scene look as if they were a pair of toddlers in the middle of a war zone they had caused. Well, half of them were of a two year old status.

“Daddy!” Yes, that two year old, the one with the shorter mop of brown curls.

Finding this sight mildly humorous, he smirked, provoking the inevitable question from his Hermione, muffled because of the thumb currently taking residence between her lips,

“Wha’?”

Which only succeeded in sending Draco in peals of laughter, as if she were unaware of the devastation surrounding her.

His wife narrowed her eyes at him, causing him to soften his laughter into sniggers of amusement. Closing the door behind him he made his way through the open plan lounge area to the kitchen area to join his wife and youngest son. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he kissed her temple, which in turn made her lean into his side.

In a teasing tone, he whispered into her hairline, “I thought we were trying to discourage the thumb sucking, not join in.”

This earned him a light smack to the chest by his wife, who turned in his arms to face him.

“I have a paper cut from reopening the boxes.” A frown appeared on her face, and Draco leaned forward to kiss it away tenderly. Then, realising what she just said, he laughed under his breath.

“I thought we were trying to move out, not in,” he joked. “Why are you reopening boxes?”

“Well, we couldn’t find Rabbit, and Xander said he put him, sorry, he’s _hiding_ in one of the boxes, which I have sealed up and sent half off this morning.” The frown made a reappearance.

“Don’t worry love, we’ll find him.” Draco drew out his wand and the two year old opposite suddenly became very interested in his parent’s conversation. “Accio.”

A box in the corner of the room started dragging slowly towards them, and with that he cancelled the spell.

“Did you forget you were a witch, Hermione?”

Hermione, grumbling something about stupid husbands and their bright ideas, started towards the box which contained the elusive Mr. Rabbit, but Draco put a hand on her arm.

“Let me do it. You sit down and relax for a bit, okay? Nurse those paper cuts.” Scowling playfully at her husband, she made her way over to the one remaining sofa and sat down with a sigh.

“I hate being pregnant. I’m always so _tired_.”

Draco, who had opened the box by this point, halted his rummaging momentarily to smile softly at his wife.

“You don’t mean that, that’s your hormones talking.”

Smiling in agreement, she settled back on the red sofa, relishing in the memory of when they had been decorating this very room about 16 years previously. Draco had given her free rein to do ‘whatever the hell she wanted’ with it. And she wouldn’t have married a Slytherin if she didn’t know how to handle one. It was too good of an opportunity to miss.

To say Draco had had the surprise of a lifetime when he came home later that day was an understatement.

“Gryffindor red? Really Hermione?” He had asked. She had nodded with a devious smile on her face, to which he had returned with a “God I love you.” And then went on to christen this very sofa, and the rug, and the cabinet in the corner…

It suddenly dawned on Hermione how much she was going to miss this house that had been their home for so many years. They had been through so many things whilst living at this house. An engagement, a wedding, four children, the conceiving of a fifth, and now they were leaving it.

Tears started to gather in her eyes as she thought of leaving the place that had been her home for so long. Damn hormones, they were making her well up.

“Ah ha!” Came a cry from beside her. At first the shout had startled her, pulling her sharply out of her reverie. But it soon became apparent that Draco had become triumphant in his hunt for Mr. Rabbit, and was now holding it up like a trophy above his head.

“Wabbit!” A brown blur sped past her and stopped in front of its father.

“A’ voila! One Rabbit for a Mr Xander Cygnus Malfoy,” Draco grinned down at his son and gently placed the toy in his tiny outstretched arms.

“T’ank you Daddy! You founded ‘im!” The toddler clutched Rabbit to his chest and hugged his Daddy’s legs. Draco patted his son’s back and with that, Xander pulled away, walking off whilst reprimanding Mr. Rabbit for hiding from ‘Mummy, Daddy and Xander’.

After staring after his son for a few moments, Draco wandered back over towards the sofa Hermione was currently occupying.

“So,” he started, plopping himself down next to his wife, “How are you feeling now after I graciously gave you a break from stress city?”

Hermione snuggled closer into his side and pulled her feet up underneath her. His arm automatically went around her.

“Much better, actually. I don’t want to throw anything at anyone anymore, so that’s a plus point,” she joked lightly. “Just pretty tired now. And starting to feel nostalgic about leaving this place.”

“I know darling, I know. It’s been such a good house to us. But there are _some_ things I would rather forget about this place though.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“The projectile vomiting spree of 2010, off the top of my head.”

“Oh dear Lord, I know what you mean," Hermione laughed. "It took you ages to get the mess off the walls.”

“And the carpet.”

“And the sofa.”

“And out of that fan.”

“And off Scorpius,” Hermione giggled, “Caelum was a terror as it was, but at three years old with a horrid stomach bug… It was quite possibly the worst experience I have had so far with the kids.”

“Don’t forget Lyra and the rat in the washing machine.”

“Please don’t remind me! I still don’t know where she found the poor thing in the first place.”

“See?” Draco smirked, “Not all good memories.”

Hermione twisted so that she was facing her husband. “But we have plenty more to look forward to in England, I would wager.”

“Ahh well. We’ll survive.” Draco leaned down to kiss her softly. “How’s Junior?” He asked, stroking Hermione’s swollen stomach tenderly.

“Well, she’s fine, just a few kicks today, nothing more than usual. Did give me grief when I stood up too quickly though, I had a major head rush.” She frowned, “Do you think I’ll be okay to fly tomorrow?”

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine darling, don’t worry about it. I know you, you’ll overthink it and then make yourself sick from the thought of it. I’m sure with a good breakfast we’ll be all good to go.” He smiled.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right… Ooh! You brought food for me, am I right?” With the prospect of eating her sandwich, she brightened considerably.

“Of course. Hang on…” Draco detached himself from Hermione to go and fetch said sandwich from the counter top where he had deposited it earlier. “Pickled egg, cucumber and rhubarb sandwich. Is that right?”

Nodding her head enthusiastically, Hermione almost snatched the food out of his hand with a hurried, “Thanks honey,” and leaned upwards, expecting a kiss. Draco obliged, how could he not? And she hurriedly unwrapped the sandwich and dug in immediately, moaning at the good, to her, taste.

“You really do have some weird cravings.” Draco said, as he retook his seat next to her, curling his arm around her shoulders once more.

Mumbling, because of the mouth full of food, she replied, “I’sh not ‘ee. I’sh the baby.” Then pointed took another bite to prove the muffled point.

A playful grin forming on his face tipped Hermione off to the teasing comment that was to follow. “I’m not so sure, Granger. I think you’re using pregnancy as an excuse to eat all the combinations of foods you want to eat normally, but that would be considered abnormal, so you wait until you’re knocked up, so you have a reason for your weird ways.”

He laughed when the inevitable and predictable smack to the arm came.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, mouth now free to answer, “That’s not true, you turnip! And that’s Granger-Malfoy to you.”

“You _turnip_?” Draco laughed even harder. Hermione’s cheeks began to blossom a pretty pink colour and she hit him again.

“Yes, you turnip. It’s a perfectly fine insult.” She was well aware she was setting herself up for more of a teasing.

“That’s an insult Xander would use, Hermione!” Tears of laughter were actually gathering in his eyes now.

She opted not to comment and took another huge bite of her monstrosity of a sandwich.

Finally, the laughter died down and Draco moved closer to her again, nuzzling her neck.

“You know I love you, you absolute turnip.” He murmured into her neck, and kissed it pointedly. Despite herself, she smiled.

“I love you too.” Just at that moment, as if she wanted her to give her opinion too, the baby kicked against where Draco’s hand had automatically fell on Hermione’s abdomen. “And apparently baby loves you as well.”

Draco tilted his head to kiss her stomach, which tickled, making her giggle. Then he moved back up again to kiss Hermione properly, but wrinkled his nose at the last moment.

“Sorry Granger, but I’m really not liking the pickled egg.”

Gasping in fake outrage, she slapped his shoulder and they both burst out into laughter.


	3. Up In The Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been a while, I forgot I posted the story here!   
> It's been a horrible couple of months, so it's not really my fault...  
> Anyway... Enjoy!  
> Lottie xx

 

 

_Hermione was washing the dishes when the owl arrived._

_She preferred washing up the muggle way, as it was always her chore when she was a child that after dinner, she would clean the dishes. Not that that was the only reason._

_It also gave her time to think._

_Which she hardly ever seemed to be able to do these days, what with her job and four children to raise and look after, and having just found out that morning she was pregnant with number five. She seemed to have no time to just sort everything out in her head. She felt she needed some quality time to think._

_Having just dropped her three eldest children at the local muggle primary school which they attended, and Draco having rushed off to work twenty minutes previously, she was nearly alone in the house. All apart from her two year old son; who was sat at the table behind her, doing some colouring._

_Well, she says colouring. More like scribbling vaguely where the lines are, but he tries his hardest, bless him, with his tongue poking out to the side of his mouth, frown in place, crayon in chubby little hand._

_So, here she was, scrubber in hand, washing gloves on, doing the breakfast dishes. She was humming to herself a tune which she couldn’t quite place, but definitely knew from somewhere._

_Just as she was scrubbing a particularly greasy pan, there was a sudden commotion behind her._

_“Mummy! Mummy! T’ere a owl at da win’ow!”_

_She glanced over her shoulder, and spotted Xander already on the other side of the living room jumping up and down on the sofa at the far end, which was underneath the window all owls seemed to arrive at._

_Smiling at her son’s routine for whenever an owl arrived at the house, Hermione made her way over to the window to let the owl in. Once she was a little closer, she realised it was Oswald, Harry’s replacement owl after Hedwig… fell in battle._

_After she had left England for good all those years, she had only kept in touch with a handful of people from her ‘old life’, as she had come to call it. Harry she had obviously kept in contact with, being her best friend. Then Ginny by default of that since they were married and saw all of the letters. A few letters here and there with Molly Weasley were exchanged too, just updates and a ‘how are things?’ every once in a while._

_And that is really the only people who she talked to on a regular basis for years, until around 3 years ago, when she had accidentally bumped into Luna Lovegood at the Australian Ministry. She had just arrived via international floo with her new husband, Rolf Scamander._

_They were on their honeymoon, Australia being just a stop on their world tour. She was here in search of an ‘Australian Crumple-Horned Snorkack’, or something similar to it._

_Rolf, being a Magizoologist, would write a book on them if they were able to find any. Which Hermione highly doubted, as they most probably didn’t exist._

_However, they were happy, and that’s all that mattered._

_Since that meeting, she had kept in touch with Luna on a regular basis. The vague and dreamy quality to her letters, which had carried across from her way of speaking, made for an interesting and sometimes entertaining read._

_She had not kept in touch with Ronald. And that is enough said on that matter._

_Now, back to the present, she was opening the latest letter that she had received from one Mr. Harry Potter. Or at least his owl. It could easily have been from Ginny._

_But what followed out to the envelope was not what she had been expecting._

_It was an invitation._

_Of course, she and Draco had received their (separate, because the British Ministry wasn’t aware of their marriage) invites a week previously. It was to the 20 th annual memorial of the end of the Second Wizarding War. _

_But Harry, she assumed, had sent her one himself._

_Scrawled on the back of the invite (To Hermione Granger and Family) in Harry’s untidy handwriting was a short message._

 

**_Hermione,_ **

**_I know you will look at this invite and immediately say you’re not going. So, I thought if I sent you an invite myself, you would take it as a personal invite from me._ **

**_Please come. You missed the 10 th anniversary one. _ **

**_I miss my ‘Mione and want to meet my godson and the rest of your children. And I know you have a godson of your own to meet._ **

**_I’d also like to meet your husband and give him the big brother talk I should have years ago. Since you’re 14, nearly 15, years happily married I doubt it is necessary. But still, I missed out._ **

**_And yes I’m guilt tripping you._ **

**_Whatever it is keeping you away, it’s okay because I’ll accept whatever it is. I just want to see you._ **

**_Please come._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Harry_ **

****

_Gnawing at her nail, a habit she should really try to stop doing, she considered what Harry had said._

_What was keeping her away?_

_They all knew of her lifestyle, her children, their names, and ages. And even seen some select photos that she’d sent._

_However, the main reason she had not gone back, and refused for her ‘old life’ friends to come to Australia, was because nobody knew who she had married._

_Not Harry, not Ginny, not even Luna who had been in Australia knew she was married to their high school ‘enemy’._

_He wasn’t the real enemy though, not really. It was just children throwing around words that their parents had used around them._

_He was definitely not the enemy now._

_He had changed so much. He was her husband. He loved her and she loved him. He was the father of her children._

_She was not ashamed of him, not at all._

_Hermione was just wary of everyone’s reactions, especially with them so far away and she couldn’t defend Draco against their judgements. Also, they couldn’t see first-hand how radically he had changed, and how much they loved each other. To do all that she would have to go to England to show them._

_But if she went to England, would they make a snap judgement, refuse to talk to her and she’d lose them forever that way?_

_So she was stuck._

_But, maybe it was time to go back now. She had nothing to hide._

_And plus, it would be nice if her children could go to Hogwarts as she and their father did._

_There was a conversation she needed to have with Draco._

_About what was going on in her womb currently, and the possibility of England._

_Damn Harry and his meddling ways._

_~LTNS~_

“Which flight number are we on again? And what’s the flight time?”

“Hold on, I’m checking the tickets…”

…

“Well?”

“Wait a minute, there are a lot of numbers. It’s confusing. Bloody muggles, making everything more complicated than it should be…”

“Draco, let me have a look… See here, we’re on flight BA4139 leaving at 11:50. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Draco just scowled and turned around to find the kids. Hermione sighed.

_Remind me why we decided to leave again?_

They had arrived at Melbourne airport 3 hours before their flight was due to take off, leaving plenty of time to go through customs and find the right terminal, etcetera, etcetera.

However, never mind how early you arrive for your flight, an airport will always be a stressful environment. Add four young children to that and a man that could very easily be considered a larger child, it was the worst place on earth.

Trying to think positive thoughts, like ‘they might fall asleep after a while, it was an early start after all’ and ‘maybe Draco won’t be determined to join ‘The Mile High Club’ since he had heard about it two weeks ago’, Hermione turned around to find none of her family in sight.

_Great, let’s add to the stress, shall we?_

Frantically scanning the now seemingly oversized airport for her precious family, she relaxed when she saw that Draco had herded them over to a coffee shop near to where Hermione was standing. He had picked up Xander and was stood at the counter pointing to the lists of drinks above the lady serving them and appeared to be conversing with him in such a way it made Hermione have a wash of maternal feeling rush over her, bringing tears to her eyes.

Wiping them away, feeling silly as her hormones flared up, she made her way over to the three children at the table. Just as she was about to reach them Scorpius got up out of his chair and walked towards her. As soon as he reached her, he put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, as much as he could, considering the bump that was to be his little sister.

Taken off guard, she slowly wrapped her arms around her eldest son, but only by 6 minutes to his twin. Open displays of emotion didn‘t come naturally to him, especially in public, so she treasured these moments.

“Are you ok, Mum?” He asked, his voice muffled by being buried in her shoulder. He was a tall boy, tall for his 10 years. But Hermione was only just clearing five foot two herself, on a good day, that is.

“Of course I am, my darling.” Drawing back to look at her son, she spoke again, “May I ask what bought this on?”

“It’s just you were crying just a second ago…”

“Oh honey, I wasn’t crying because I was sad, I was crying because I was happy! You know how I get when I’m growing a baby,” she smiled, poking her son in the side, making him squirm and let out a bark of laughter. “But, a hug is always welcomed.” She squeezed him tighter to make her point and then they drew apart, heading back to the table, where Draco was just setting down a tray full of drinks.

As they took their seats, he gave her a questioning raised eyebrow. Hermione shook her head and mouthed “Later,” at him.

Nodding, he passed a cup towards her, telling her had bought her, “A peppermint tea, love?”

Smiling graciously, she took the drink and cupped it between her hands, warming them.

“What time is our flight Dad?” Lyra piped up, addressing her father.

“Umm…” Draco pretended to think, but flashed a desperate look at his wife, who promptly burst out into laughter, confusing all the children present.

“It’s at 11:50 sweetheart,” Hermione told her daughter, still laughing at Draco’s inability to remember flight information.

“Yeah, 11:50, that’s what I was going to say,” Draco mumbled. Caelum then snorted,

“Yeah right Dad, you couldn’t remember the time.” Hermione smiled, this time smugly and took a sip of her tea, trying to look innocent.

“Well, you’ve always known your Mum runs the ship around here, right ‘Mione?” Draco winked at her.

She scoffed, “Of course, otherwise we’d never get anything done, and we’d be eating out of takeaway cartons every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if it were left up to your Dad.”

“Hey!” Came a cry, quite obviously feigning to be insulted.

“I only speak the truth, honey,” Quipped Hermione.

“You’re a seer now? I thought you hated Divination?”

“Ahh, I said I hated that class, not that I couldn’t do it.”

“Sure, I believe you ‘Mione, Oh great one with the Vision!”

“Hey! No dramatics where there are hot drinks! Parenting 101!” Hermione reprimanded her husband’s behaviour.

“It was only a hand gesture, love.”

“Hmm. If I didn’t love you so much…”

“Love you too Granger.”

“…”

“Eww! Gross! Mum, Dad, stop _doing_ that!”

“Stop doing what kids? Kissing?”

“Yes!”

“Have _you_ ever kissed before?” Draco challenged, a teasing light in his eyes.

“No! Eww, as if I’d go anywhere _near_ a girl!”

“Well, we’d better show you how it’s done then…”

“DAD!”

 

~LTNS~

 

_Arriving home after a hard day’s work, all Draco Malfoy wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with his wife and relax._

_However, Hermione had other plans._

_Closing the front door behind him quietly, as some of the kids would probably be asleep by this time, Draco walked through his house as if on automatic, dumping his keys in the bowl on the side cabinet and dropping his laptop bag against the wall tucked behind the same cabinet._

_Yawning, he made his way through to the kitchen to discover his wife sat at the table in the dark, apparently staring into space. Frowning, he flipped on a light, startling her._

_“Sorry,” He muttered, he voice gruff with tiredness. Clearing it he continued, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_“You didn’t startle me,” she said, and then took in the disbelieving look on his face and grinned ruefully, “Okay, you may have scared me a little,” she added sheepishly._

_“Hermione, you jumped about a foot in the air,” Draco started with a slight smile, but it dropped when he saw the spaced out expression on his ‘Mione’s face. “Are you okay?” He asked, sliding into the chair next to hers. He took her hand and was now worried as she wasn’t answering him. “How long were you sat there?”_

_“A while…” She answered in a spacey tone, and went to trace the patterns in the wood top table._

_Now Draco was concerned. Hermione was always sharp and focused, unless something big was weighting on her mind._

_“What’s happened? Are the kids alright? Has someone said something to you?” Still no answer. “Hermione, look at me.” She looked up sharply and seemed to take a deep breath._

_“Draco, I’m… I… We’re…” And then she seemed to deflate a little bit, and give up, going back to tracing the patterns._

_“We’re what? What have I done? I don’t think I’ve done something…” He frantically thought back over the last few weeks, he hasn’t done anything she could have misunderstood, could he? It’s happened before, leading to some spectacular fights, but it was always a miscommunication of the facts. “You’re what, Hermione?” He grasped both sides of her face and turned her face up so he could look at her._

_He ran his thumb over her lips, tracing them, and she kissed it. Draco smiled weakly, she’d not mad at him, otherwise she wouldn’t have done that._

_Another deep breath,_

_“Draco, I’m… pregnant.”_

_And with those three simple words his whole world slowed down._

_It was just him and Hermione, his Hermione._

_“R-really?” He whispered tentatively. He was afraid that if he spoke louder, the fantasy would be broken._

_“Yes,”_

_A smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth, threatening to break out into a full-blown grin._

_Before he even knew what he was doing, he was kissing her relentlessly._

_He could feel a wetness on his cheeks, a combination of their tears._

_Tears of happiness._

_He didn’t even care that he was crying, he was going to be a Daddy. Again!_

_Breaking apart from her lips, he pressed his forehead into hers, their noses touching, eyes closed._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Of course I’m sure, Draco. I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t.”_

_Ahh, there’s the wife he knows and loves. There’s his ‘Mione._

_Fiery, even in the most intimate moments._

_“Hermione, I already have four children that you have given me, and I think I love you more and more with every one, if that’s even possible.”_

_She pressed her lips to his once more and he could feel her smile underneath his own._

_“Well, be prepared for number five then, Daddy, because she or he is arriving in about seven months’ time.”_

_Chuckling, Draco drew her to his chest and encompassed her in his embrace, kissing her temple softly._

_“Now, what is really on your mind, darling. Because you know I would be happy even if we had 200 babies.”_

_A snort followed his statement, “What do you think I am? A dog? I have babies, not litters.” She then immediately went quiet again._

_“Hermione, I know my wife. And when something is bothering you, you try and divert attention from it. Come on, out with it.”_

_A sigh sounded from underneath his chin. “I received an owl from Harry today… Do you remember when we got our invites to the memorial ball at Hogwarts about a week ago?”_

_“Yes…” Draco was confused about the direction had gone. What did Potter have to do with the invitation?_

_“Well, Harry sent me something that wasn’t really a letter. It was an invitation for me ‘and family’ to attend. But Harry said he was sending it to me as a way of inviting me himself, instead of the Ministry. He really hopes I can go, and the thing is… I want to. Not just in an ‘I want to see everybody’ way, but it got me thinking, and I want to go back to England. Permanently.”_

_Nervously, she lifted her head to see his reaction. To her surprise, a small smirk was on her husband’s face._

_“Hermione, we’re like one mind, really,” he joked. “I’ve been thinking recently that Caelum and Scorp are going to be going to a Wizarding school this coming September. We haven’t even started looking at Australian Wizarding Schools yet, and then I thought of Hogwarts. I’d really like my children to attend the school we went to. Think, we know the school, and know they’d be in good hands. And why break an age long tradition in the Malfoy family to attend the finest Wizarding School in the world? I’ve already broken every possible one I could have, by marrying you.” Draco’s smirk grew into a grin at that thought._

_“But, we need to be living in Britain for them to be accepted there. And within the next few months too.”_

_“Would we be willing to uproot their entire lives just to move to attend a school though?” Draco mused._

_“Well, it’s not the only reason for moving, is it? And I mean, come on, it’s Hogwarts! Well worth moving for,” Hermione winked._

_“So, a lot of changes in the next few months then.”_

_“Yep, a whole lot.”_

_“You nervous?”_

_“Terrified.”_

_“Good, it’s not just me then.”_

_Smack!_

_“Prat.”_

_“Your prat.”_

_“I know.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?   
> Tell me your thoughts, only you can do that!


	4. Home At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're nearly home!   
> Enjoy!  
> Lottie xx

 

There were very few things that truly terrified Hermione Malfoy.

Losing her family was the worst one.

Weirdly, fish were also on the list.

Not the ones in water, she was fine with live ones. It’s just the dead ones that freaked her out.

Another fear was flying.

When she and Draco had decided to move the muggle way due to her condition, she had known that meant travelling by muggle aeroplane.

Up until now, she had been pretending the day would never come. But now she was here, strapped into this contraption, the plane edging its way away from the gate at a snail’s pace.

The thing that _really_ scared her about flying was the fact that she, and everyone around her, could very easily plummet to their deaths. Whether it was flying by plane, broomstick, or even hippogriff, the risk was always there. Logically, she knew that statistically the chances of it happening were minimal. And especially since she was a witch she could always halt the fall with a wave of her wand.

However, the fear was a deeply ingrained one, and she could not stop her pulse from racing, or the panicky feeling that rises in her throat at every jerk of the aircraft, not for lack of trying though.

She’d tried sleeping pills, distracting herself, anything she could think of, but nothing worked.

So she was stuck, clutching the armrests as if they were life preservers and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, with her wonderful husband rubbing soothing circles on her back.

After take-off, she wasn’t so bad, still jittery, but it was manageable.

One thing that made the journey that little bit worse though was Lyra’s adverse reaction to flying.

This was one thing Hermione would have preferred to have known ahead of time. But, as it was, none of her children had flown before. Although, she and Draco should have been able to make an educated guess ahead of time, as Lyra had the same reaction to long car journeys.

After spending nearly eight hours taking it in turns with her husband to help her daughter back and forth to the bathroom at the rear of the plane, Hermione had never been so grateful to be on solid ground. She honestly could have kissed the tarmac, she was that happy.

Now, after arriving in Singapore, they had a seven hour wait in order to catch their connecting flight all the way back to London. Hermione was not looking forward to the thirteen hour flight that loomed on the horizon.

After the first two hours in limbo, they had been around all of the little shops and bought numerous things to keep the children occupied, and themselves occupied, for the time in stasis ahead. A further hour and a half into the wait and the numerous puzzle books, colouring books and portable games very quickly became repetitive.

“Mu-um. I’m bored,” a moan came from Hermione’s left, where her son was draped across the uncomfortable plastic seats. Patiently, she slid her bookmark in the second book she had read that day.

“Caelum, I’m sorry, but we’re _all_ extremely bored. It’s just a by-product of travelling, I’m afraid.”

“What can we do then?” Scorpius sighed, sitting up more and rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

“You could always sleep, sweetheart. You look tired.”

“I can’t sleep Mum, it’s still mostly light outside and there’s too many people around. And besides, these seats aren’t exactly cushioned.” He pulled a face and rolled his head, getting the cricks out of it from lying across the aforementioned chairs.

“Mum, do you knew when Dad is getting back? I need to pee.” Ahh, a whining Lyra had made herself known.

“Honey, your Dad just took Xander off to the loos, you could have gone with them.”

“But I didn’t need it then, and they’ve been gone for ages!” She complained.

Come to think of it, they were taking quite a while.

“You’re just going to have to wait until they get back, because I can’t take you and leave Scorp and Caelum here alone,” Hermione snapped. Seeing her daughter’s beautiful face crumble at her terseness, she immediately regretted her harsh tone. Sighing, she pulled the girl into a hug. “I’m sorry I snapped sweetie, I’m just stressed and tired. I think everyone is,” she murmured, stroking her baby’s light blonde ringlets.

Lyra pulled back slightly, just so she could smile weakly up at her mother, “I know Mum, and I understand. You were like this when you were having Xander too, it’s alright.”

Hermione stared at her, surprised slightly by the level of maturity she displayed for a nine year old, but quickly recovered. She really did take after her Grandma Cissa in more ways than just her crystal blue eyes.

“I’m still sorry I raised my voice to my little girl, who is being extremely grown up about it. Well done darling, you’re being very mature.”

This earned her a smile, which seemed to transform her daughter’s whole face from ‘older than her years’, reverting back to angelic innocence. Hermione often wondered which house her children would be sorted into when they attended Hogwarts.

She suspected that Scorpius would probably be in Slytherin, like his father. He was always planning ahead, was extremely controlled, which is a very snake-like quality. But he could also as easily be in Ravenclaw with his high intellect and love for learning. Obsession, almost.

Caelum, she was fairly sure, would be a Gryffindor. Because of his brash nature and inability to keep his thoughts to himself, it seemed the most obvious route.

He reminded her of quite a few boys who shared her own house at the school. However, he could easily be placed in Hufflepuff, with his loyalty to his family and upbeat nature, but the Gryffindor qualities seemed to outweigh the Hufflepuff ones.

Besides, he knew his father’s opinions on Hufflepuff house, so may pray not to be placed there. Hermione personally found nothing wrong with the house, but if she were to be honest, she was secretly hoping for Gryffindor. Maybe she was a little biased…

It was a little early to tell with Xander, for most two year olds are loud and interested in everything and have short attention spans. But at the moment, if she had to guess, she would put him in Ravenclaw, purely because of his eagerness to learn about everything.

Lyra, however, seemed entirely destined for Slytherin. Hermione knew her daughter, and despite her naïve expressions and childlike innocence, she used these aspects to her advantage. She was a sweet girl, truly loving her family and friends. But when she wanted something or was in trouble, she would be relentless until she found a way to get the best out of it for her.

She was extremely manipulative. Not in the sense that she was bratty about it, or to spite anyone, but in a clever way.

She just seemed to have a natural flair for finding people’s weaknesses or the intricate way to convince somebody that it was a good idea to agree with her. It often made for a hard time knowing when she was actually in the right, or whether she had twisted it to be that way. But after nine years of it, Hermione knew all of her little tricks.

And with Draco Malfoy as her father, master of manipulation, it was often a battle of wits between the two.

“Finally!” A loud shout broke through her thought process. Startled her head flew up, only to be greeted by the sight of her husband and toddler wandering towards them.

“Where have you _been_?”

Reaching the rest of his family, Draco slumped into the seat opposite Hermione and sighed. Comically, Xander tried to copy his father, but with a hop up into the seat with an exaggerated huff and a pout. Like father, like son.

“There was a massive queue at the loo just around the corner, and since Xander was desperate, I decided to try and find the toilet that was signposted to be a gate over. To cut a long story short it was out of order, and as a result the cleaners nearby had to clean out a misused bin.”

Caelum burst into hysterical laughter.

“It’s not funny! I had to apologise and explain to someone what had happened, but they only spoke disjointed English, so have to sort of mime it as well!”

The laughter only grew, and there were sniggers coming from the other two children. Xander looked on confused, as he didn’t see what was so funny.

To be honest, Hermione was trying, and failing, to hold back the giggles threatening to escape. It was just the image of her husband trying to explain _that_ …

The previously smothered laughter was not so smothered anymore.

“It no’ funny Mummy! Lywa, Kay-Kay, Corp, it not!”

Stifling her laughter once more, Hermione replied, still giggly, “Of course it’s not, _is it_ , kids?” She stared meaningfully at her other children, silently signalling them that they may hurt their little brother’s feelings if they disagreed. Barely controlled expressions stared back at her.

“No.”

“Not at all.”

“Well…”

“Caelum…” Hermione warned.

Sighing, he conceded, “It’s not funny Xan, sorry.”

 

 

~ _LTNS_ ~

 

Scorpius was extremely bored.

After reading the entirety of his travel book, and doing an endless number of puzzles and god knows what else, he had eventually resorted to counting. Boring as it was, it was something to do.

He liked numbers. They were the same in every country, a universal language, if you will. Also, there was no guess work, just formulas that had structure and never wavered.

And Scorpius thrived on order. In his opinion, if everything was organised, then there was little room for mistakes to be made, and for people to be made fools of.

And he was no fool.

So, counting it was.

At two hours of waiting, he had counted every chair in the waiting room.

At three hours, every tile on the opposite wall.

At four hours, he considered starting to count Lyra’s individual strands of hair. But he thought that was maybe talking it a little too far.

His twin was being the most vocal about the whole having nothing to do. Personally, the constant whining was grating on him. Of the two, Scorpius was the more reserved. Sometimes he couldn’t even believe they shared the same womb for nine months, or were even related for that matter.

While he was tall, Caelum was taller. At the moment, anyway. He would catch him up one day, it was one of his life goals. He had more of his Dad’s influence in his genes, with his silvery blond locks and paler skin, whilst his twin had more colour to him and golden blonde waves atop his head.

He could see the similarities though. They had the same nose and eyes; their mother’s, and a similar build. Caelum’s features may be more rounded, but the bases were there.

But as well as the _physical_ variances and resemblances, there were also mentalities.

They were both stubborn and very opinionated. Whilst Scorpius may well be the first to admit to himself he was wrong, Caelum would try in vain to convince himself, and others, otherwise.

Both were intelligent, but Scorpius revelled in the learning and thirsted for new knowledge to ingest, whilst Caelum did just enough to coast on through.

Also, his dear twin brother was always one to speak his mind. Caelum often said things before he had thought them through thoroughly first. Sometimes statements or questions slipped out that he later regretted. But Scorpius was a lot more cunning, not jumping head first into something, or speaking, without analysing it initially. Impulsive, would be a word that came to mind when describing this aspect of his twin.

Stupidly impulsive, sometimes.

However, he would not be his brother if he didn’t do the things Scorpius wished he could do without thinking first, which, admittedly, could work to Caelum’s advantage sometimes. If the situation was time dependant, that is. Or even just having the ability to follow one’s instincts, is a quality that he sometimes envied.

Despite their differences, they still had a good relationship, the teasing and arguing was more like banter than properly fighting and being spiteful just because. But, being boys, openly showing emotions on a permanent basis was something _girls_ do. And being a _girl_ was not something either of them aspired to be.

“I just wish we had something to _do_ ,” a moan interrupted his inner ramblings.

“Caelum, shut up.” Scorpius gritted his teeth from his position opposite his twin, slouched in his seat, head thrown back, working on counting the ceiling tiles. He’d gotten to twenty three before his constant source of distractions once again worked his magic.

“But Scorp, I am the _bordest_ I’ve _ever_ been,” his twin groaned again, throwing an arm over his face.

“Most bored,” Scorpius corrected, rolling his head around to look his brother in the eye. “And I know you are fed up, you’ve made it clear several times, very vocally, may I add. So stop with the dramatics, you’re getting on my nerves.” And with that, huffed and turned away from his irritating marginally younger-by-six-minutes twin brother.

Sensing an opportunity to annoy his brother even more, a devilish grin emerged on Caelum’s face. Scorpius groaned internally, knowing what was about to come his way. After all, he hadn’t spent the last ten, nearly eleven, years in close proximity to his brother and not pick up what each facial expression meant. And this particular arrangement of features, the cherub cheeks lifted, one brow slightly raised, meant _‘you’ve just walked right into it, brother mine’._

Leaning forward in his seat, Caelum’s slight grin grew into a full-blown one. He took a deep breath, a beat of silence, and sang,

“I know a song that’ll get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves. I know a song that’ll get on your nerves, and it goes a bit live this.”

Scorpius refused to show any reaction to Caelum. As a reaction was exactly what his brother was striving for. It had long been Caelum’s pleasure in life to irritate his brother, as his reactions were just so damn funny.

But, being the intelligent boy he was, Scorpius had long since figured out that to give a reaction only spurred that delinquent twin of his on.

So, all he did in response to Caelum’s obnoxious song was lean further back in his seat and stare up at the ceiling, resolving to count the tiles up there until his brother decided he wasn’t going to get a reaction and gave up. Scorpius liked bantering back and forth with his brother, but not when he was tired, grumpy, and simply was not in the mood.

Carrying on with his silly tune, which was only a repetition of the one and only line of which he had first sung, albeit amazingly off tune, Caelum realised that simply warbling away was not going to get him anywhere in his quest to aggravate his twin.

In order to the point that he snapped and spluttered out his insults towards him, he would need something more attention grabbing. This would trigger the tidal wave of diatribes that he so loved to witness. Because when Scorp did lose it, he lost it big time, and was always the most amusing sight. He paused his tirade of noise and stood up, out of his seat.

The sudden stop in what should not deserve the title of a tune immediately alerted Scorpius to the fact that something more was on its way. His brother didn’t give up that easily, or quickly, especially if there was nothing else to distract him, which he had made so abundantly clear. So that meant…

Before he could so much as finish that train of thought, he was being pushed into the uncomfortable plastic seat he was settled on, a huge weight sat atop his chest and legs. Then, a sound of cats screeching sounded again.

Oh no, his mistake, it was just his brother attempting to sing even the simplest of tunes.

Now it was getting slightly difficult to breathe, he had to react to his twin’s efforts at annoyance. Damn it, he had won this round…

Shoving off the surprisingly heavy boy laying on top of him, Scorpius decided that if Caelum was going to fight dirty, that so was he.

“Mum! He sat on me!”

Yes, running to his mother was a low blow, but it would put a stop to Caelum’s awful singing and using Scorpius as a bouncy castle. It was the most logical way forward.

Looking up briefly from her novel that she appeared to be engrossed in, Hermione answered, “Caelum, stop tormenting your brother.” Even before she had finished her sentence, her eyes had drifted back towards the pages of the book nestled in her hands.

Not exactly the chewing out that Scorpius had hoped to gain from resorting to his underhanded tactic, but it was enough to make the elephant that was his brother pause in his ministrations so that Scorpius could wiggle himself out from underneath him.

Opting to be the bigger man, or boy, he moved to the seats opposite, where Caelum was originally sitting, and settled into one of them. He then looked his brother across from him in the eye.

_Yes, there will be no retaliation from me, brother dear._

Caelum obviously had interpreted his look of superiority correctly, as he pouted, crossed his arms, and slumped in the seat Scorpius had previously been occupying.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbled, and then the pout returned in full force. Scorpius just raised an eyebrow,

“Well, I’m sorry if I didn’t play along with you using me as your own personal trampoline.” The sarcasm dripped heavily from his tone. Caelum pulled a face and turned away, miffed. Shaking his head in amusement at his brother’s childish antics, Scorpius leant back once again in his seat, and slowly started counting.

_One ceiling tile, two, three…_

 

~ _LTNS_ ~

 

From his near-constant station at the back of the aircraft, right outside the on-plane toilet facilities, Draco Malfoy was wondering how long it would be until it was time to land.

He was partly wondering because he feared for the welfare of his daughter, currently locked in the loo he was stationed by. She was not taking well to flying. He wished he could do something to take away her travel sickness, but it was just something that, as a parent, you had to grit your teeth and bear it, armed with comforting tones and the occasional back rubbing. As that was just about the extent of what you could do in the current situation.

However, he was mainly wondering because the general moral of his family was extremely low. They’d all had had a spectacularly long day, 28 hours at last count.

No one had had any proper sleep, with the constant travelling and then the bright lights and bustling environment of the airport at the long wait between flights. Also with the constant back and forth to bathrooms with Lyra’s adverse response to flying. All in all, it made for a much disrupted sleeping pattern.

As a result, petty arguments had broken out and overall grouchiness was the current mood.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, his daughter emerged from the loo with a flush, and a toothbrush in hand, smiling weakly.

Giving a small smile back, Draco put his arm around her to guide her back towards their seats. He deliberately didn’t ask how she felt, as it would only remind her of the sickness feeling that she was already too aware of, which wouldn’t help matters. So, he showed his support and concern through a sideways hug as they walked.

He knew she respected him not making a fuss by the relieved smiles she shot his way every time he directed people’s questions away from her. They were very alike in some respects, privacy being one of them.

Their hair and colouring being another. She was very much his daughter, down to the cleverly manipulative aptitudes they shared.

Reaching their seats, Draco settled back down next to his wife, who glanced up briefly from her book and smiled in greeting, returning her attention to the novel in her lap.

“If only you paid me half the amount of concentration you pay those books of yours, then we’d be joining the Mile High Club as we speak,” he joked lightly, knowing she would never allow it. A man could dream though.

Finally Hermione was drawn out of her bubble of words long enough to answer. “Not happening darling. I thought we discussed this flying over India.” Her small grin indicated to Draco that she caught on to the fact that he was joking. Well, only half jesting…

“Damn, maybe next time, hey?”

“Only in your dreams, Mr. Malfoy.”

“And that’s Mr. Draco ‘a husband so sexy you can barely resist ravishing him right here and now’ Malfoy to you,” he murmured, mockingly indignant.

“Only in _my_ dreams, husband of mine,” she whispered, reaching over to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. Hermione looked up at him with hooded eyes, and a promise lay within.

_Is it just me, or is it suddenly very hot in here?_

A slow grin spread across his wife’s face, and she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Just as he started to respond, she pulled away. Frowning, he opened his mouth to protest but Hermione beat him to it, laughing under her breath.

“You are just too easy to wind up Draco,” she kissed him again. He made this one linger, but she still tried to pull back too soon. He was not having any of that, so cupped the back of her head and touched her forehead with his own. Draco sighed and closed his eyes, savouring the moment.

This was one of his favourite places to be. With his Hermione, as if it were only the two of them in the whole world.

After a few moments, Draco moved his head around to place his cheek against hers, and growled into her ear,

“Later.”

He even felt the delicious shiver that ran down his wife’s spine at the mere thought of _later._

Rearranging themselves, Hermione tucked her head into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arm around her protectively, absently stroking her baby bump.

He didn’t even realise that they had fallen asleep until he was awoken by a tentative poking on his shoulder. Craning his now stiff neck to the side, he came face to face with one of the air hostesses, who then informed them that they were about to land and that they had to strap themselves back into their seats.

Blearily, he nodded and turned to wake up his slumbering wife, who he found to be already awake and rubbing her eyes, adjusting to the now lightened up plane.

They both clipped themselves in, and made sure Xander, who was occupying the seat by the window in their set of three seats, also had his seatbelt on. When they found him to bouncing around in his seat, belt-less, Hermione had to get him to stay still long enough to strap him in.

One glance across the aisle to where the other three children sat confirmed that they were all safely seatbelt-ed up.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention please?” The captain’s voice sounded from over the tannoy. “We are now coming in to land at London’s Heathrow Airport. It is 3:00 in the afternoon local time. Seatbelts must now all be on. When you exit the aircraft after we land, you must take all of your belongings with you. I trust you all had a comfortable journey and thank you for flying with British Airways.”

The plane took a slight jolt, which Lyra went slightly green at, and then started to descend. As the tyres came into contact with the runway, Hermione exchanged a glance with Draco.

_Home at last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your thoughts will be heard!  
> If you would tell me your thoughts, that is...  
> That wasn't a subtle hint at all...


	5. Dreams And Tumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> Everybody have a nice week?  
> Here's the next chapter, so enjoy!  
> Lottie xx  
> (Oh yes, and for those who may be confused, the parts in italics are always flashbacks, with a few exceptions of dream sequences, but those will be made apparent. As an old English teacher of mine used to say, "The key to writing a successful flashback is to make it clear to the reader that it is indeed a flashback." I've tried to do that, but made it a little more defined by the use of italics.)

 

_She didn’t know how she got there, but for some reason she was sat in a meadow._

_Not just any meadow, mind. This was a special one to her, as she used to come here with her father as a child, playing in the long grass and flowers that grew there._

_But at this present moment, she was alone._

_Through the leaves of the trees surrounding her haven, sunlight dapples shone softly. All she could hear was the slight rustling of the foliage within the woods around her. This struck her as odd, since from where she was sat, there was no breeze to be had._

_Brushing it off as something to ponder later, she lay back. Stretching out once and then relaxing, she resolved to just enjoy the late afternoon sun warming her face and think of nothing for once._

_Her eyes drifted shut, she was content._

_._

_._

_._

_“’Mione!”_

_Her eyes flew open. It seemed like seconds since she had closed her eyes on the clear skies, but simultaneously it felt like hours had gone by. She was not confident in her ability to judge how much time had passed._

_It was cloudy now, blocking out all traces of the summer day that had previously filled the sky._

_Now, to address the matter of who had called her name. She was alone. At least she was when she had supposedly fallen asleep._

_Sitting up, she glanced around, peering over the tops of the long grass, searching for the voice that had beckoned._

_She was still alone._

_A shiver ran down her spine, and not just because it was now chilly due to the absence of the sun._

_Her gaze ran across the now darkened woods, much more foreboding with the shadows that now lurked within. The lack of sound in the clearing was unnerving. It was quiet. And not pleasantly quiet._

_Too quiet._

_Silent, almost._

_No squirrels running up and around tree trunks. No flapping of a bird’s wings. Not even a rustling of a tree’s leaves._

_Eerily quiet._

_Scrambling to her feet, she decided that if someone had called her name and then didn’t announce themselves, or a make any sound following it, it could only mean that they had despicable things planned._

_Of course there was also the point that she may have just imagined the voice. But if the time she spent fighting in the war had taught her anything, it was this: ALWAYS trust your instincts._

_She felt around for her wand, finding it strangely absent. When a quick wandless ‘Accio’, was cast, no wand came shooting towards her, confirming it. She was defenceless through magical means._

_So, what now?_

_She wasn’t exactly going to wander into the forest, unarmed, with god knows what out there._

_But she couldn’t exactly stay here…_

_Snap!_

_Whirling around, she now faced the direction from which the sharp sound had come from. The sound echoed across the glade, only highlighting the deathly silence that was present there. Tense eyes scanned the area. After squinting, her eyes finally fell upon the outline of a man, stood just outside of the reaches of the glade. Hidden within the shadows of the forest, the figure stood completely still._

_Too still._

_It was still too quiet._

_He didn’t make a sound._

_She didn’t make a sound._

_It was almost a battle of stares, which would be made much easier to play if his features were clear. But no, all she could make out were outlines of broad shoulders and a slim waist, which then swept into long legs._

_Poised, ready in a second to sprint in the other direction, she tentatively took a step backwards, eyes never leaving the enigmatic silhouette. When no movement was apparent, she took another, and another, until she was swiftly retreating backwards, eyes never wavering._

_She didn’t dare blink for fear that she may never open her eyes again._

_If she had in fact looked around, she may have seen the man who now stood directly behind her._

_Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around her, causing a shriek to erupt from her throat, and the desperate struggles that followed._

_“’Mione, calm down. Hermione! For Merlin’s sake…”_

_These words made her pause._

_She knew that voice._

_It was one of her favourite sounds in the world._

_Relief flooding over her, she turned in his arms and hugged him back._

_“Draco,” she breathed._

_She pulled his face down to press a kiss against his lips._

_Pulling back slightly, a small smile emerged on his face._

_“What was that for?”_

_“I was so frightened, you see, there was a man over…” she turned in his arms to point, only to shakily finish, “…there.”_

_Hand quivering, she pointed out the figure._

_The figure who was now within the confines of the clearing._

_Ronald Weasley’s features were contorted into an emotion which Hermione could only describe as pure anger._

_“Malfoy?” He spat. “You’re with MALFOY?!”_

_He started advancing on the pair. Draco shoved her behind his back, putting his body in between his love and what he perceived to be a threat._

_The threat being a furious Weasel._

_One who was famous for his short temper._

_“Don’t come any closer, Weasley.”_

_“What are you going to do, ferret-face? Call for your Daddy?”_

_“Ron!” Hermione shouted from her place behind her husband, “Stop it! Please don’t do anything stupid!”_

_“Stupid?! Hermione, you’re the only one who’s done something stupid here, by marrying him!” And with that, Ron started running towards them, obviously intent on grabbing Draco. But at the last second, Hermione jumped in front of her husband, taking the brunt of the hit._

_“Hermione!”_

_Her husband’s screams filled her ears._

_“No!”_

_~LTNS~_

 

Breathing heavily, Hermione tried to gather her thoughts in the darkness of the bedroom.

She had startled awake a few moments previously, and was having a difficult time calming herself down. The dream itself wasn’t the scariest one she had ever had, but the concept and the fears behind it were very much so.

Obviously, her dream meant she was scared of people’s reactions towards her husband. Ron seemed to be a symbol for the life she left behind. Not that she valued _his_ opinion in particular, but what if other people reacted the same way as dream-Ron had done? This, she reasoned, was what truly troubled her.

What if Harry reacted that way? Ginny? Anyone she loved?

It may just break her heart.

However, she loved her husband so infinitely more, more than she ever thought possible.

She was not ashamed of her husband.

Let this just be a fact.

However she knew, more than anyone, his past prejudices and behaviour. The key word in that sentence: knew. She didn’t know them, because they now did not exist. Otherwise this marriage was some amazingly elaborate joke being played on her.

Not that she had ever doubted him for a second.

When re-meeting her now husband, all those years ago, she too had been sceptical. Who could blame her? After all that had been said and done, anyone would be. But, always the optimist about seeing the best in people, she gave him a chance to explain himself and prove to her that he had truly seen the error of his ways.

She now thanks the Lord, Krishna, and anyone who’s listening that she did.

After hearing his story, and listening to his apology, she had initially apologised for retaliating. But he had only shaken his head and said, “I was still the one in the wrong.”

For, to her logic, this further proved that he had not only changed, but accepted that he was wrong.

This was what brought about that great realisation that people, even people she thought to be ‘evil’ and then in later school years ‘amazingly misguided and a coward’, could transform themselves completely for the better.

The old Draco Malfoy, the one from their school years, would have revelled in the apology, and then shoved it right back in her face, metaphorically that is. Maybe even literally, he’d have found a way. Yet he didn’t, even all those eighteen years ago.

That’s maturity, right there.

Even if Draco still did have his momentary lapses into his spoiled, pureblood upbringing. But they were only that, fleeting moments.

She just hoped that when reintroduced, others would see that growth in character.

Now, as to why she was having such a hard time slowing her heartbeat.

When she had awakened, she had been alone.

It made sense that she would have a nightmare now. She always slept a lot better with Draco wrapped around her. She always felt so protected with even his presence there. But this time, he was strangely absent.

Especially considering he was never one to miss out on sleep.

Or a half-naked Hermione wrapped up in a bed that they shared.

Also was the fact that her dreams always seemed to become more vivid around this time in her pregnancies. It seems that this time it was no different.

Glancing at the bedside clock, she groaned when she saw that it only read nine o’ clock in the evening. A total of four hours sleep, if that. It had been an extremely long day previously. Longer than a day, if she was truly honest. She was still absolutely exhausted. But, then again, 27 hours of travelling, plus major jet lag, can do that to a person.

After exiting the aeroplane about six hours ago, the Malfoy family had made their way through British customs mercifully quickly. At three o’ clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday, the airport was not exactly bustling with activity.

Then came the hour long drive to her parent’s house in the outskirts of London.

It was her childhood home, one she had not visited in more than twenty years. The house hadn’t changed much throughout the years, she had noted when they had first pulled up to it, but it no longer felt like _home_. Home was where her family was, and now all that the house held for her were fond memories and a feeling of comfort.

But maybe their new house could become their home.

When she had eventually reversed her obliviation on her parents, they had decided to stay in Australia for a years, so they could visit it as themselves, not as the ‘Wilkins’. After that, and one humongous spider incident in the bathroom of their Australian home later, they had moved back to Britain, with the intent to revive their dentistry business.

They came back for visits and such, but Hermione and her family only ever saw them that way, and through the brilliant muggle invention ‘Sky-pee’, as Draco called it.

As soon as the Malfoys had pulled up to the Granger’s home, it was a brief ‘hello’ and ‘where are we sleeping?’ and then off to bed. Lyra and Xander had been put in Hermione’s old room, as the single bed and the pull-out mattress were ideal. And, anyway, the twins had flat out refused to sleep in a pink room, so they were given the sofa bed downstairs.

Draco and herself had the guest bedroom.

All in all, there were not too many arguments on sleeping arrangements. They were probably too tired to care.

But now it was four hours later, and she was alone. And it was time to inquire as to the whereabouts of her currently absent husband.

Pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms, so as not to scar any children, or her parents for that matter, she made her way to the door. Opening it then cautiously, she slipped out into the darkened hallway.

Feeling her way down the corridor she made it to the stairs. Missing the one step that she knew creaked, and discovering a multitude of others that did, she made it to the bottom. Creeping past her boys sleeping on the sofa in the living room, she came to the ajar door that opened out into the kitchen.

She was about to push it open, when the low lull of voices made her freeze. At first, she thought that it was the twins, sleeping on the sofa behind her. But with a quick glance backwards, she dismissed the theory. They were still sound asleep.

There was someone, or somebodies, in the kitchen, then.

Probably Draco, since she couldn’t think of anywhere else he could be. Apart from the bathroom that is, but she’d passed that along the hallway upstairs, and it was empty.

Being careful not to touch the door and therefore alert the people in the room as to her presence, Hermione peered through the small gap that the door allowed. She was greeted by a sight that made her smile.

There was her husband, sat the kitchen table, mug in hands, in whispered conversation with her mother.

“The house certainly looks lovely, Mrs Granger. Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“Oh nonsense, Draco. We’d let you stay here indefinitely if there was enough room. And enough with this ‘Mrs Granger’ business, you’re my son for all intents and purposes. I’ve told you to call me ‘Mum’. Or even ‘Jean’ will do. Lord knows I’ve been telling you that for _years_ …”

“Whatever you say… Mrs Granger.” He grinned cheekily, looking like the spitting image of Scorp.

Swatting him on the hand good naturedly, Jean chuckled. “And should I start calling you ‘Mr Malfoy’ then?”

“Right, point taken, _Jean_.”

Nodding, satisfied she had gotten through to him, her mother took a sip of her assorted hot drink. Probably tea Hermione guessed, knowing her mother. Nothing if not British…

“The children really are growing up, aren’t they? I hardly recognised Caelum, he’s shot up since we last saw you all.” Draco nodded in agreement. “Scorpius even took over from me and made up the sofa bed, without being prompted! Very good manners, all of them. You and Hermione are doing a fantastic job.”

“Thank you, Jean. It really is a full-time job though.”

“And tiring too, I’ll bet.”

“Mmhum.”

“I was exhausted just bring up Hermione, I can’t imagine having four, and a fifth on the way!”

Laughing quietly, he replied, “I think we’re mad.”

Hermione herself had to smile at this. An inside joke of hers and Draco’s, that they must be clinically insane to willingly have more than one sleep-depriving machines.

“Have you given any thought to names for the new baby? I found that girl’s names are much harder to come up with than boys.”

“Yes, we have. Nothing’s been decided yet, but we know want to keep tradition, you know? Like we did with the other four.” Came her husband’s reply.

 

_~LTNS~_

 

_“Casey?”_

_“No.”_

_“Lewis?”_

_“Nu-uh.”_

_“Aries?”_

_“Nope.”_

_“Pictor?”_

_“You have GOT to be kidding me.” Hermione exclaimed, frowning at her husband._

_“What? It’s a constellation. Keeping the Black family tradition and all…”_

_“Draco, we already have Cygnus as a middle name, after your grandfather. Who, coincidentally, was named after a constellation.”_

_“I know, I just liked that one.” Sulkily, he jutted his lip out into a pout._

_Hermione sighed. They were really having trouble coming up with a good name to call their newest addition, arriving soon. It was to be a boy, this was baby number four, and Hermione’s third pregnancy._

_If she were to be honest, this baby was a little bit of an accident. Hermione had had a fairly difficult time carrying Lyra to term, and after giving birth, had been told by the medi-wizard that it would be a fifty-fifty chance of having other children. This didn’t concern them too much, as they had said they wouldn’t mind having any more children, but were still happy enough if they couldn’t conceive again._

_For five years, they had not been actively trying to add to their family, but hadn’t taken any precautions to prevent it either. After those five years had passed, they had pretty much accepted that three were all they were going to have, and they were fine with that._

_However, one morning in March Hermione began to feel under the weather. Dismissing it as a sickness that would pass in a few days, she thought nothing of it._

_That was, until it began to happen every day, at around the same time in the evening._

_After confirmation from a quick spell to her abdomen, she was indeed pregnant._

_It was now nearing the end of September, and she was due towards the end of the next month. Hence, the talk of baby names, as they drew closer and closer to the day that her son would enter into this world._

_This brings us a full circle._

_“What about Matthias?” Her husband’s voice drew her out of her reverie._

_“Matthias? I… It’s alright. I like it better than anything else you’ve suggested so far.” Draco smirked in triumph, then proceeded to write it down on their list of names in his elegant script._

_“I think it’s a good one. It says here,” he gestured towards the computer screen of the baby naming website, “That it means ‘gift from God’. Seems fitting for the miracle baby.” He shrugged._

_“Hmm…” Hermione mused, tapping her lips with her pen. “Doesn’t it sound a little bit… pompous? I mean, that’s what you used to think of yourself,” she teased. This only earned her a playful glare, to which she retaliated in a stuck out tongue._

_“I see your point. What if we take a name closer to yours? Like we did with Lyra’s middle name, Aurora. Give the kid a mythological Greek God name?”_

_“That’s… actually a really good idea. Get Wikipedia up.”_

_“Wiki what?”_

_Laughing, she took the laptop off of her husband. She loved him, but he really was useless with anything vaguely technological._

_Bringing up a page on Greek mythological figures, she started to scroll through them, easily dismissing them one by one._

_Really, who would name their child ‘Hephaestus’? Unless they want them to be bullied horrendously._

_Ahh, every parent’s dream._

_That was why it was so difficult to name their children. They had so many criteria to meet. Like, does it fit in with the Black family tradition of naming babies after stars and constellations? Is it unusual enough for them not to be just another in the crowd, but not so unusual that they would be teased for it? Do the names mean anything which is awful? All of these thoughts were swimming around in Hermione’s, and Draco’s, heads as they tried, sometimes in vain, to find beautiful names that above anything they both liked and agreed on._

_“Hang on, scroll up for a second.” Draco interrupted her. Doing as such, he then pointed to something on the screen. “What about that one?”_

_“Erebus?”_

_“Shall I put it on the list?”_

_“Yes, I think we can safely say that. Though we can’t just leave it at that, we need more names to choose from.”_

_Shaking his head at his wife’s insanely lateral mind, Draco took a seat next to her, watching the computer screen over her shoulder._

_Further scrolling revealed nothing more of interest, for a boy at least. Leaning back in his chair, Draco stretched and put his arm around his wife, letting his head fall back as if asleep, ‘snoring’ loudly._

_Hermione giggled at her husband’s antics, “I take it you’re tired then?”_

_Fake, over-exaggerated snores met her statement._

_Sighing, she snuggled into his half embrace, laying her head on his shoulder._

_“Do you remember how hard it was to name Scorp and Caelum?”_

_A groan sounded from above her head, interrupting the snores. “Don’t remind me.”_

_“We wanted constellations, or stars, as first names, so that was fairly straight forward. But it was the second names that were so difficult.”_

_“Hermione,” Draco lifted his head and looked down at his wife, his tone almost conversational, “Did you not hear my previous statement of the ‘not reminding’?”_

_She just elbowed him._

_“Just wait a second, I’m going somewhere with it.” When no protests reached her ears, she continued, “I mean, we had Michael for Scorpius, after my father. And since you didn’t want Lucius in the title, we went for another Hebrew origin name, so that the twins had the same types of names, for Caelum. And we ended up with Zachary.”_

_“Ahh, I see. So you’re suggesting we do the same with baby ‘something Cygnus’ and has an origin like theirs, keep connections between the boys?”_

_“Yes, that’s what I’m suggesting.”_

_“Okay, let’s have a look then…”_

_~LTNS~_

“Mum?”

Almost jumping up a foot in the air, Hermione twisted around. She just about caught sight of Caelum stood behind her before she lost her footing and fell straight into the door, tumbling into the kitchen and landing on her butt on the floor.

A gasp sounded from behind her and she was swiftly guided into the arms of her husband, before being hoisted into a nearby chair.

“’Mione? Are you okay? Are you bleeding? Oh Merlin! Is the baby okay?!” Draco was crouched in front of her, holding her head in his hands, his voice rising more and more in panic with every question.

Smiling softly, she cupped her hands over his, and looked him meaningfully in the eye, to further reassure him.

“I’m fine Draco.” When he still didn’t look convinced, she kissed him gently, and stroked his cheek, “Really, I am.”

Her eyes flickered towards her mum, who was watching them with a fond smile on her lips.

Finally, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Kissing her palm, he stood up and turned towards their son, who was hovering timidly in the doorway, concerned that he had hurt his mother.

“Now, Caelum Zachary Malfoy…”

“Draco!” Hermione cut him off, for she could tell he was about to start shouting. Lowering her voice once more, conscious of Scorp sleeping in the next room over, she continued. “We have a house full of sleeping people, a shouting match would not help. It would just result in a lot of grumpy zombies. Besides,” she sighed, “It’s not his fault. It was my fault for eavesdropping.”

A crooked grin appeared on her face, “Apparently, the field of espionage is not my calling.”

The attempt at a joke earned her a small smile, which soon disappeared, replaced by a frown.

“Just as long as you don’t attempt another snooping session whilst in your state,” he murmured, pulling her close, and dropping his gaze to her hand where he played with her wedding bands.

Hermione kissed his forehead, “I promise.”

Keeping their hands joined, she turned towards Caelum and her mother, who were stood by the door, silently watching their sweet exchange.

“Cae, what did you want?”

Realising he was being addressed, her son looked directly at her, a grin etched to his face. “I was just wondering what you were doing stood facing a closed door without attempting to open it.”

Blushing, Hermione shook her head and smiled, “If that’s all, then it’s off to bed with you, mister.”

“But Mum, I’m not tired!”

“Caelum, I think you should do as your mother says. You’ve already caused enough trouble tonight.” Hermione’s own mother stepped in, guiding her grandson back into the living room. Hermione knew that this was her mum’s way of giving her and Draco a moment alone.

“I think you should go to St Mungo’s tomorrow to get checked out, just in case.”

Sighing, she turned to her husband. “Are you still on that? I’m fine, darling. I told you.”

Wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, and down to rub her baby bump, Draco touched his lips to her temple.

“I just want to make sure that there’s no delayed reaction.”

Hermione conceded, pulling him down for a kiss, still having to step up onto her tip toes, as he was really _that_ tall.

“Now, husband of mine, what was that on the plane about ‘ _later’_?” She asked, with a wink.

Grinning, Draco scooped her up into his arms, earning a squeak from her, and carried her out of the doorway and away up the stairs, hitting every creaky one on the way up.

 

_~LTNS~_

_“What about Alexander?”_

_“Ooh, I like that one, Draco.”_

_“So do I. The only thing is, I don’t like the nickname of ‘Alex’, ‘Mione.”_

_“Then how about we just call him, ‘Xander’? As his whole name, so no ‘Al’?”_

_“Xander Cygnus Malfoy. I like it.”_

_“Me too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit the Kudos button, you know you want to!


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